


Hurt to Heal

by alabasterclouds



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Clinging, Corporal Punishment, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Daddy Issues, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fetish Club, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Psychological Regression, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-05 17:28:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18833338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alabasterclouds/pseuds/alabasterclouds
Summary: Captain Holt and Jake go undercover to investigate a corrupt fetish club that's just opened up in downtown Brooklyn. In order to be believable, Jake begrudgingly plays Holt's sub - and ends up in a situation where both he and Holt have to prove they're at the club legitimately. As he finds himself over Holt's knee being spanked, his daddy issues come flooding back - and Holt ends up having to get him out of there to comfort and soothe him.Notes: I hope you enjoy this, reader! I tried to incorporate your prompt of having Holt and Jake go undercover, and of course, of your request for a good old-fashioned spanking! Enjoy :)





	Hurt to Heal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cookiegirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cookiegirl/gifts).



"A fetish club, huh?" 

Jake and Captain Holt sat in an unmarked van outside a dark building, squat and small with the windows blacked out. From the outside, it looked like just another factory, but Holt, his mouth twisting in discomfort, had just clued Jake in on what they needed to do.

"Yes." Holt paused. "I hesitate to ask you this, Peralta, but to be honest, I really couldn't think of anyone else that could go undercover convincingly enough."

"So what are we talking? BDSM? Chains and stuff? Some kind of weird Game of Thrones shit?" Jake's face showed his usual smirk, but his voice held more than a hint of amusement. "I'm so flattered you thought of me this way, Captain. I mean, I do like a bit of kink, if we're being honest . . ." He trailed off as Holt looked nauseated. "I'm kidding. So what's the story?"

"I think they're laundering money through here. It opened up just three months ago and it's already booming - there's way too much revenue for a new place, especially since it's certainly not the only club like this in the city."

"I really don't want to know how you know that," drawled Jake dryly, and then winked at Holt, who rolled his eyes. "So what's our cover?"

"Well, it's a BDSM club, so essentially we need to pretend that we're . . . a BDSM couple." Holt looked uncomfortable. "But I fully expect that we'll get access to the back office fairly quickly," he added. "I wouldn't ask you otherwise."

"I trust you, Captain," said Jake, his voice calm. "I'll be the Dom."

"You most certainly will not," snapped Holt. "If we're doing this, and trust me that I'm fully not comfortable with it just as much as you aren't, _I'll_ be the Dom. You'll be the sub."

"Does that mean I get to wear a collar?" asked Jake, grinning wickedly. "Can it have spikes? Pretty please?"

"I don't care what you wear," Holt said, his voice exasperated. "I care about getting to the office to catch them in the act." He loosened his tie, looking uncomfortable. "Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," replied Jake. "You have the team on backup?"

"They're due to break in soon - I gave them about half an hour, and we've got a guy in there that I'll signal to."

Jake smiled. "Let's do this."

//~//

The first thing Jake noticed when he and Holt walked into the club was the smell. It was metallic, a tang of sweat and baby powder and something he couldn't identify - maybe alcohol? - hung in the air. The club was dark, with strobe lights flashing weakly, illuminating dark corners where couples of all genders ground against each other, the light glinting off handcuffs and chains. The music was loud, and Jake fought the urge to cover his ears.

Holt, his usual crisp white shirt and black dress pants replaced by a black studded leather vest and pair of tight-fitting pants, led Jake in behind him, tethered to him by a long braided leather leash attached to a spiked collar around his neck. Though the nights were chilly still, Jake was bare-chested and wore only a pair of ripped jeans. He shivered in the cool air.

"I'm not sure why I can't wear the leather vest," he'd complained to Holt, who had clipped the leash onto his collar with a metallic click, grinning wickedly.

"Because I make the rules, Peralta. Now get behind me."

"Ooh, bossy," quipped Jake, but he'd shut up and did as he was told when Holt gave him a truly terrifying glare. He knew better than to compromise the mission.

The perky-looking blonde at the desk was dressed head-to-toe in creaking black leather and chains, belying her all-American appearance. She smiled at them, anyway, and asked for $20 in cover each.

Jake was about to protest when Holt gave him a tug on his leash and laid a finger over his mouth. Jake shut up, resisting the urge to recoil from Holt's finger, and rubbed his neck. Holt seemed to be enjoying this just a little too much, he thought darkly, watching as Holt handed over $40 and led the way into the crush of the club.

The pounding music and heat of around a hundred bodies was slightly overwhelming. Holt tugged Jake through the crowd, and Jake struggled to keep his balance as other people bumped into him or otherwise pushed him around. Jake didn't love clubs at the best of times, and keeping focus was getting harder. He was glad that Holt was tall enough to cut a bit of a swathe through the throng, otherwise Jake felt like he would have ended up being pulled into the undertow of bodies. He focused on Holt's leather-clad back, and was glad that the big man was there.

Holt murmured into the microphone at his wrist, attached to the handle of the leash. "Yes, we're coming to the back. Be ready in 15."

Jake wandered behind Holt as he came up to a door in the back of the club and pushed it open. The music dropped to a dull roar - it was clearly soundproofed. Jake rubbed his ears gratefully, and Holt gave him a tug inside.

The room was small, with two desks against the wall, and a sitting area in the middle. Three couples sat on armchairs, each with their own sub sitting at their feet. They appeared to be talking, but all conversation ended when Jake and Holt stepped in. The couples stared at them. Clearly, people didn't come in here often.

Holt nonchalantly dropped into the armchair nearest the door, then, when Jake stood awkwardly beside him, fixed him with a stern expression.

"Sit."

Jake sat without a word, but Holt shook his head slightly. "Yes, sir," Jake replied, his voice holding a hint of amusement. Holt shot him a glare as one of the Doms across from him raised his eyebrows.

Jake sat quietly beside the chair as Holt pulled out his phone and typed in a text. Jake could see the text was to Kevin - "Get milk. And eggs. Sincerely, Raymond Holt." He rolled his eyes, and the same Dom, who had a shock of blonde hair, fixed him with a suspicious expression.

"Your sub seems a bit unruly," he commented to Holt, who looked up with faint surprise.

"Does he?" Holt looked down at Jake, who gazed up at him, trying for the picture of innocence. "I don't see anything out of the ordinary."

"Yeah," said Jake, unable to help himself. "I'm not unruly."

Now all three Doms, one a woman with a bulldog mask pushed up on her greying hair, looked at him. She looked him up and down, her lip curling. "You allow him to speak to you that way?"

"No," said Holt, and swatted Jake's head lightly. "I don't."

Jake flinched exaggeratedly, wondering if he was overdoing it when one of the subs across from him stifled a smile. Her eyes sparkled at him, and he couldn't help himself - he winked back at her.

"Seems to me I'd be asking him to apologize before he gets himself into more trouble," said the third Dom, an older man with long black hair, a sneering expression, and, Jake noticed, a large gun belt with a huge gun hanging off his waist. "And to watch his insubordination."

Holt met Jake's eyes, and in them, Jake saw a bit of uncertainty. "Are you going to behave, or are we going to have to have a repeat of last night?"

Privately, Jake wondered exactly what "last night" was in Holt's world, then pushed the thought out of his mind as he realized he was expected to answer. "No, sir," he said, then yelped as Holt tugged on his hair. "Sorry, sir."

"That's a little more like it," said the Domme, pushing her sub back as she stretched out her legs. "I didn't tell you 'at ease'," she snapped to her. Her pretty sub pushed her long red hair out of her eyes and pouted, but she obediently crossed her legs again. "Sorry, ma'am."

"I don't need you to tell me how to discipline him," said Holt, an edge in his voice that Jake hadn't heard before. Jake watched as Holt's eyes flickered towards the door. The team was due any minute. "I'll thank you to pay attention to your own sub."

Jake couldn't help himself. "Yeah," he added. "She isn't even sitting up straight!" The red-haired sub gasped, but gave him an interested expression. She clearly didn't see much insubordination often, thought Jake. _She should visit the Nine-Nine,_ he thought as Holt suddenly snapped his body around, one of his massive hands gripping the back of Jake's neck firmly, just as the greying Domme began to open her mouth, her expression twisting into one of extreme suspicion. 

Jake jumped and stared up at Holt, whose eyes were boring into his. But as Jake gazed into Holt's eyes, he saw Holt's expression change just slightly - it was questioning. And Jake knew that whatever Holt was about to do, he was doing to save them both from blowing their cover. 

Jake imperceptibly nodded, even as he let out a convincing whimper, and Holt nodded just once before pulling Jake upright and over his knee, pushing down his jeans and boxers as he did so, earning an interested look from the Domme.

"What --" Jake's voice cut off as he realized that in order to keep their cover, he had to allow this. So he let out another whimper again, squirming on Holt's lap. "No, sir, please don't!"

"You're asking for it," growled Holt, and brought his hand down on Jake's bare ass. "And I told you the next time you decided to act up, you'd be getting it in public."

"I didn't think you were serious," gasped Jake, his face reddening as he caught the eye of the red-haired sub, who looked absolutely delighted. "I'll be good, sir, you don't have to . . . spank me," he added, letting out a yelp as he felt the sting of Holt's palm on his ass again.

"Shut up," snapped Holt, and grabbed Jake's wrists in his other hand as Jake squirmed, trying to cover his bottom. "Stay still or it's the whip."

"The whip?!" gasped Jake. "Ow," he moaned as Holt squeezed his wrists tightly.

"Then stay still," Holt replied. "You know the drill; I'm not sure why you're being such a baby about this. Now. How many do you think you deserve?"

Jake's face felt like it was on fire as he squirmed under Holt's heavy grip, but he obediently gripped the leg of the armchair and sighed, a shaky sigh. "How . . . how many are you going to give me, sir?" 

"I think fifteen." Holt smacked Jake's right cheek with a resounding slap. "Count."

 _Count? Jesus, where did Holt know how to even do this?_ thought Jake as Holt gave his wrists a warning squeeze again. "One," he replied in resignation. "Two!" he squealed as Holt slapped him again, this time harder. Damn, did it ever sting!

"Three. Four! Ow, fuck, five." Jake's eyes started to fill with painful tears as Holt slowly and methodically spanked him. "Six. Seven. Owwwww, eight, sir, please, can't we be finished yet?"

"I don't think you've learned your lesson yet," came Holt's calm voice, and Jake watched as two tears dripped from his downturned face onto the dirty floor. This was only pretend. So why did it hurt so much, then?

"Nine. Ten." Jake's voice broke. "Eleven." He started to cry properly, then, surprising himself. Holt hesitated just a second, before bringing his hand down in the hardest spank yet. "TWELVE, fuck, owwww."

"Language," reproved Holt, then slapped his lower left thigh. "How many was that?"

"Thir-thirteen," Jake practically whispered, his chest heaving as he sobbed. "Daddy, please . . ."

Holt hesitated again, this time for longer. Jake started to feel like the world was falling away; it was just him and Holt, here on this chair, and there was only pain and knowing that Holt was going to carry this through if it killed him. Jake's chest began to hitch. He couldn't ever remember crying so hard in his entire life. Nor could he remember calling anyone Daddy as an adult - not even his own father.

"Two more, baby boy," said Holt, an unexpected tenderness in his voice that Jake had never heard before, not even when he spoke to Kevin. His sobs slowed a bit, only to speed up into a yelp as Holt spanked him again.

"Fourteen. Ow! Ow! Ow! Fifteen, it's fifteen, it's all done, it's fifteen! Owww, oww," Jake wailed, just as three NYPD officers burst through the closed door and began to arrest the couples sitting on the chairs opposite them. Holt quickly pulled up Jake's pants, but Jake felt like he couldn't move properly. He couldn't stop sobbing. Jake covered his face and hid against Holt's lap.

Holt looked at him in concern, then directed a command at the nearest SWAT officer. "Johnson, handle this, please. I've got to get Peralta out of here."

"Roger," replied Johnson, and Holt heaved Jake off his lap and pulled him from the room, this time by his wrist, through the throng of people in the club, and out into the damp night air.

//~//

Jake curled in on himself in the back of the van. His ass felt like it was on fire; he was pretty sure that it was going to be red for days. Vaguely, in a small corner of his rational mind, he wondered how he'd explain the redness to Amy, when Holt climbed in beside him and settled on the carpeted floor. Without even thinking, Jake, his chest hitching painfully, turned and leaned into Holt's warm, comforting bulk.

After a moment, Holt put his arms around Jake and pulled him close. "Jake, I'm so sorry. I didn't ever mean for it to go that far. Shh, shh." Holt's voice was its usual staccato, matter-of-fact timbre, but there was a hint of tenderness and concern in it that comforted Jake a little. He clung to Holt, feeling the man hesitate, then begin to rub his back.

"I most certainly didn't expect . . . this reaction. Shhhh. It's all right. It's all over. I promise, I'll never ask you to do such a thing again."

"Aren't I good? Aren't I a good boy?" Jake blurted, not really understanding why he was asking this or where it was coming from. "Don't I do a good job?"

"Jake." Holt pulled him gently away from his chest and ruffled his hair a little. "Of course you do a good job. You're a great detective."

"Aren't I good sometimes?" Jake's chin quivered and he started to whimper a little. "I'm not a bad boy?"

Holt looked confused for a few moments, then pulled Jake close again, cuddling him securely. "Yes. You're a good boy, Jake. You're not a bad boy."

Jake, feeling the warmth of Holt's smooth bare skin under the leather vest against his cheek, felt his breathing slow down. He closed his eyes. Holt continued to pat his back soothingly.

"Who said you were bad, buddy?" Holt's voice was gentle, very uncharacteristic. Jake sniffled.

"Dad."

"Your dad thinks you're a bad boy?"

"He never said I was good. He just . . . he just gave me a spanking. And then he left." Jake heard his voice crack. "He didn't stay. He didn't come home. I made him pictures . . . I tried to help Mom. I _tried_ to be good!" Jake felt like he couldn't possibly cry any more tears, but more slipped hotly down his cheeks. "I just wanted to be good for him. And for you."

"Did you think I gave you a spanking because I thought you weren't doing your job well?"

"I wasn't listening," sniffled Jake. "I was being insubordinate."

"We were pretending, Jake," Holt reminded him, but he looked down into Jake's teary eyes and sighed. "I'm sorry. This is a trigger for you, isn't it?"

Jake guessed it was. He struggled to pull himself back to adulthood, scrubbing a hand across his eyes roughly, feeling his usual rationality and control return slowly as Holt rumbled comfortingly in his chest and continued to rub his back. "I'm sorry I called you Daddy." He wiped his eyes again, but didn't let go of Holt. "It just slipped out."

Holt half-smiled. "Well, we certainly didn't blow our cover in there." He cuddled Jake securely to his chest. "And for the record, Peralta. I think you're a very, very good boy. And I always have."

Jake ducked his head into Holt's leather vest and smiled.

//~//

"So, you busted them?" Rosa sat on Jake's desk, swinging her legs back and forth as she ate a crumbly croissant. She nonchalantly brushed off the crumbs onto Jake's desk, and Jake absent-mindedly brushed them to the floor.

"Yeah, the team got them. They had over three million in there. Man, what a weird place," muttered Jake. "I definitely don't have any desire to ever visit any fetish club again."

"Well, no," Rosa smirked. "It doesn't really seem your style. I'm pretty sure BDSM isn't exactly up your alley. What did you have to do in there, anyway?"

Jake looked across at Holt's office, which had the door half-open. Holt's booming voice floated out the door. "And next time, I want you both in better tactical positions. That was a dog's breakfast in there, and multiple people could have been killed! Think next time, Boyle and Santiago . . ."

He grinned. "Nothing too weird. The team was there in fifteen minutes."

"Good. I can't imagine Holt handling that all that well, to be honest."

Jake looked at Holt as he held the door open for Amy and Charles, his back straight, his face stern.

"Oh, I don't know. He handles it a lot better than you'd think."

"Weird," said Rosa.

Jake nodded, and watched as Holt turned and gave him a knowing look before disappearing back into his office. He smiled at Rosa.

"Nah. Not all that weird after all."


End file.
